


Backseats to Denial

by mintsinthemug



Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, Drinking, Eating Disorder Recovery, Eating Disorders, Hurt/Comfort, Its a mess and everyones fucking crazy, M/M, Medication, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Medication, Underage Drinking, and i mean that in the nicest way possible, vent fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-01 14:08:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6523069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintsinthemug/pseuds/mintsinthemug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The highschool, he thinks, still looks like the shithole he left it as. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Well, not exactly, they finally fixed that cracked window on the second story, and there’s the faded words ‘South Park Kills’ spray painted over the left wall by the front doors. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Craig Tucker is inclined to agree. <br/> </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Craig Tucker has spent the past six months in rehabilitation. Finally out and back home, a free man, he's reminded just how toxic his day to day life is. From mashing peas to the bottom of his chair to watching Kyle Broflovski waltz around with him in drag, Craig's slowly slipping back into his old ways. Not that anyone's ready to stop him, they're all too busy doing the same thing.</i>
  </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is going to be long and dramatic and horrible. Its posted with little proofreading and editing though i go back when i have the time and energy. Feedback is super appreciated!
> 
> This chapter is shitty and short but it had to be written and ill rewrite it at somepoint maybe.

The highschool, he thinks, still looks like the shithole he left it as. 

Well, not exactly, they finally fixed that cracked window on the second story, and there’s the faded words ‘South Park Kills’ spray painted over the left wall by the front doors. 

Craig Tucker is inclined to agree. 

He breathes in, deep and loud, and holds it until he feels dizzy. He imagines the toxicity of open air that wasn’t funneled through a tank and around his ears and into his nose, floating around and turning his lungs even blacker. When he lets it go, he takes a step forward, and then another, and another, and soon he’s running up the slope of faded old cement and _god _it feels good to run again.__

__He hits the push bar of the door with both hands, it swings open and catches for a second on the rubber matting before falling back closed, brushing the loose shoulder of his sweatshirt. The halls are leaning towards packed, the bell readying to ring and send kids off to their first class. Craig knows where his friends are, Token was sure to tell him last night. He slips between people, a thin wisp of a boy that’s hardly noticed as he turns towards the hallway where the bandroom is._ _

__He finds them there, by the long window at the end of the hall. He slows and his hand squeezes hard around the schedule crumpled in his pocket. It had been pinned to the fridge for months, sent with a note of _‘We hope Craig will join us for the end of the year’ _from the counselor. He takes another breath in, blowing it out between his teeth and starts walking forward.___ _

____He slips into the little circle they’ve made around the window, squeezing in next to Tweek and Token. Tweek pauses whatever sentence he was stammering through and the whole group quiets for all of a second before cheering starts. Hands are shaking his shoulders and arms hooking his throat for a hug or hair ruffle. He ends up shoving Kenny away with a grin and snatching his hat back from the giddy blonde’s hands._ _ _ _

____No one asks about rehab or the hospital band around his wrist and he wonders if Token lectured them before hand. But conversation returns fluidly and Craig leans back against the arm Token slips around his back with a feeling of relief._ _ _ _

____Looking around, much like the school itself, no one looks too different. On his right is Tweek, mouth glued to that same thermos full of coffee. The bags under his eyes are still dark and heavy, his hands still tremble, his hair is pulled into a messy little knot at the back of his head. He catches Craig’s gaze and fidgets a bit before smiling warily. Craig smiles back with tight lips before shifting his eyes again._ _ _ _

____Kyle is perched up on the windowsill like a cat, hands between his legs as he leans forward to glare at Cartman. A pair of circular sunglasses are perched up in his messy hair along with a few glittering bobby pins. Apparently, according to Token, he was hospitalized over winter break for lashing out and setting the bushes in front of his house on fire with a Bic lighter Craig gave him on Thanksgiving. They must’ve bumped his meds again because his eyes are slightly glassy and he keeps tilting forward and jerking back again. Craig looks away before he’s caught staring, last time that happened Kyle backed him up into a wall and bit hard into his collarbone and stomped on his toes with a smile. But of course, last time was seven months ago when Kyle was high and off most of his prescribed meds._ _ _ _

____Cartman and Butters don’t look too different, still short, still fat. Cartman’s talking about some bitch who apparently got 'double pregnant' and Butters is saying he’s just being rude. Its typical, boring even. But typical is better than what the past six months have been. Screaming, dry heaving, IVs, and feeding tubes. He'd take this over rehab any day._ _ _ _

____With a dry sniff he pulls his eyes away and they end up locked with Kenny’s, who’s still grinning with his stupid gapped teeth. His eyes are red, just slightly, and Craig frowns at him. Of course the fucker’s high, probably has been all night before too. _Idiot, druggie, cheap junkie. _Craig doesn’t mean any of it, especially not when Kenny winks and pulls at his bottom lip with bright eyes. Craig tugs at the strings of his chullo and looks down at his feet.___ _ _ _

______He doesn’t bother to look at Stan, he knows for a fact the guy started working out when he gave up cutting. He’s buff now, strong and healthy and it’d just make Craig feel shittier than he usually did. Besides, Stan is standing next to Clyde and Craig _really _doesn’t want to look at Clyde or he might start crying again. The damn whinier has rubbed off on him too much, thank god he left so early into Craig’s hospitalization.___ _ _ _ _ _

________He doesn’t mean that, but he wants to._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________When the bell rings, the group disperses. Hands pat his shoulder again and he’s about eighty percent sure it was Kyle who tried to grope at his ass and got a handful of thigh. He watches everyone leave, accepts the quick kiss Token gives him, and soon he’s alone._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Almost. Kenny is still leaning back against the wall, wether he's grinning at Craig or at something just above his head, Craig can’t tell. The blonde pushes off the wall and in two steps is by Craig’s side. “You got History first, right? So do I,”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Their knuckles brush as they walk in silence. Kenny is humming some little senseless tune and Craig is looking around the school like he's never seen it before. When they reach the class, hands still touching though neither want to make a move to stop or prolong it, Kenny pauses. His other hand comes up to pick at his teeth for a moment before he says,  
“If I threw you a welcome back party, would you come? Its at Butters house, tonight. Open invitation for the grade,”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Craig stops, eyes pulling up from his sneakers to rest on the bridge of Kenny’s nose. He thinks about how long its been since he had a drink, or a proper smoke. He feels that old familiarity stir, getting blackout drunk and making out with Kenny or doing body shots with Kyle. Back the Clyde would practically wrap himself around Craig and carry him home every morning. Back then he was all ribs and collarbones and knuckles. He’d stand up and faint and wake up with Cartman offering him weed. Back then he’d fall asleep to music blasting in his ears and someone’s lips pressing their way up his neck._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Kenny’s looking at him all hopeful and happy and just a little smug. Craig almost wants to say no, because at this point he’s taking in only the calories he absolutely has too and Token would kill him if he threw anything up even in a drunken accident on the roof of Butters’ house. Maybe he’ll say yeah and skip out, show up at the door and slip outback. No one would notice. He could say no and stay home with Token._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Yeah,” he says, and he’s surprised to find that for once,_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________he means it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	2. Chapter 2

“Alright,” Token says, and its said so suddenly with such finality that Craig startles. He twists to look over his shoulder, lying stomach down on Token’s bed, and watches his boyfriend pull at the collar of his sweater in the full length mirror.

Token is not his best friend, for a while that was Clyde, then Tweek, now he’s thinking its probably Kyle or, god forbid, Kenny. But Token was his boyfriend, which means he can’t push his limits and scream at him and give him the cold shoulder, even when he really wants to. Besides, Token’s in charge of his diet at the moment, and his parents adore Token. Always saying _‘look how sweet that boyfriend of yours is’ ‘look how patient he is’ ‘so polite’_ and other vomit worthy shit.

He doesn’t love Token- or at least, he’s not _in_ love with Token. Sure he says ‘I love you’ when Token does too, what kind of dickbag would he be if he didn’t? Well, he does about 7 times out of 10. But that seems to be good enough for Token, who’s been putting up with his shit for about five months running. Sometimes, on the days when Craig spends all day in bed and has to leave the bathroom doors open and Token gets headaches trying to get him to eat anything, Craig feels sorry for not being in love with Token. Shouldn’t he be? Token cares for him so much, and what does Craig do? Ask for permission to sleep around and smash Token’s home packed lunches between his textbooks.

“Alright?” Craig says back after nearly a minute of just silence. Token nods and turns to face Craig.

“Rules, we have rules this time,”

Craig can’t help but scowl though he tries to tamp it down. “What the _fuck_ Token?”

“We’re having rules this time. I’ll name one, you can name one. Okay?”

That seems kind of fair, though still stupid. Craig sits up fully and nods. “Okay,” because he owes it to Token to at least play along.

“If you smoke, then you can’t get drunk,”

“Asshole. You’re designated driver then,”

Token nods like he expected that, he probably did. “No sleeping with other people. I’m serious Craig, no sex,”

Craig frowns and scoffs “No drugs, not even weed,”

“If you throw up I’m cooking you a huge breakfast to make up for it,”

“You can’t talk up any of those skanky girls Kenny invites,”

Token nods and keeps nodding for a while before he steps forward and kisses Craig on the forehead. “Fair’s fair. Lets go, we shouldn’t be late to your own party,” Craig nods, slipping out of bed and pulling his shoes on. He lets Token lead him out with a hand on his back.

At Butters’ house, the music is already pumping. A few windows are open, probably to keep all the smoke and alcohol wafting out of the house and Craig has to admit thats pretty smart of Butters. They park across the street and walk there hand in hand. There are a few people out front mingling and smoking, no one seems to drunk yet and everything is pretty calm.

When Craig moves to wander off on his own, Token tugs him back so that they’re nose to nose, or would be if Token was a few inches taller. “Rules,” He reminds before pecking Craig on the lips. “Rules,” Craig sneers back mimicking him. He keeps the sneer for a few moments before kissing Token back. “Okay, whatever,”

“I love you,” Token calls as Craig pulls away again and starts to trek up towards the front door.

“I love you too,” He calls back over his shoulder. The front door is unlocked and the music gets louder as he slips inside. People are milling around the living room, cups and bottles in hand as they joke and talk and argue. He finds Butters sipping on a bottled water near the door and waves a hello. Butters smiles and Craig takes that as an invitation to lean against the wall next to him.

“Party’s going pretty good, Butters,” He says and Butters looks down with a smile.   
“Well thanks, Craig, but Kenny’s kinda runnin the whole thing. I’m just hoping no one breaks anything too bad or my folks’ll kill me!” He nervously takes another drink of water and frowns tightly.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, man,” Craig comforts, though it doesn’t seem to help much. He pats Butters shoulder and leaves the boy there, sipping his water like a loser. Someone presses an empty cup into his hand as if hes somekind of fucking waiter and he scowls, dropping it into a trash bag Butters mustve hung on the handle for the sliding glass door. Without thinking, he’s brought himself out onto the patio, cool air replacing the smell of cheap beer and heavy liquor with dew and smoke.

He finds Kenny, Cartman, and Stan Marsh sitting on the patio edge with their feet in the grass. He walks over to join them and bumps Kenny’s back with his shoe, leaving a dirty print on the back of the puffy stupid vest he wears when it's too warm for his puffy stupid parka. Kenny turns before leaping up to hug Craig, cigarette dangling from his lips.

“You made it!” He cheers and gives Craig that stupid, stupid crooked grin. Craig nods and plucks the cigarette from him to take a drag and leave it between his own lips as he sits down.

“Well its a party in my honor,” he grunts, stretching out his gangly legs.

“And youre nothing if not a vain prick,” Cartman finishes for him. Craig doesn’t offer a verbal reply, lazily raising his middle finger. He catches Stan Marsh rolling his eyes. Whatever, Marsh always had some stick up his ass when Craig was around. Probably thought he was trying to steal away Kyle or some shit.

As if to prove his point, Stan comments “This party kinda sucks,”

Cartman nods “Yeah Butters’ is a bitch though so what do you expect when you let a bitch throw parties?”

Kenny scoffs, he’s got his arm pressed against Craig’s side, practically in his lap. He pauses in blowing shitty smoke rings to shoot back “Dick, Butters is a good guy. He’s sweet,” Craig can’t help but nod slightly when Kenny turns those big blues onto him for confirmation of some sort.

Cartman barks a laugh full of smoke. “What the fuck ever. Everyone knows you’re a fag for him, Kenneh,” He says with a fierce grin. Kenny just breathes out a sigh and shrugs with a level smile.

“So what if I am? That doesn’t- oh bye Craig,” He says with a small frown, shifting so Craig can stand. He hums and drop his stolen cigarette, smashing it under the toe of his sneakers. His dark eyes land on Stan Marsh and he likes the look of discomfort of the shorter boy.

“Wheres Kyle?” He asks, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. Stan narrows his eyes and turns his nose up slightly.

“Kitchen probably. He got pissed when Cartman called him a bitch,” His cold glare moves to said teen, who’s too busy arguing with Kenny about if Butters was PMSing or not.

Craig snorts and heads back inside, hopping over a puddle of vomit and crossing into the well lit kitchen.

Kyle is there alright, having hauled his short ass up onto the counter by the sink. His legs are crossed and his hands are in his lap as he people watches. He keep stretching his arms in the air to shake back the heavy, baggy sleeves of his black faux fur coat he had dug out of a Goodwill when he was drag shopping with Craig last year.

His eyes find Craig’s from behind his ridiculous pink cateye sunglasses. They’re the especially ridiculous kind with lenses that flip up and down, at the moment they’re flipped up even though the prescription lenses that are supposed to be there were popped out when they were bought.

He looks surprised, like this wasn’t specifically thrown just for Craig. Okay, it was going to be thrown whether Craig showed up or not but he didn’t want to think about that. Kyle finally smiles, all calm and warm, and says “Hey Craig. Didn’t know if you’d ever show up,”

He opens his arms for a hug and Craig sees he’s wearing some ratty old tshirt and acid wash jeans. Fucking idiot. He lets Kyle wrap his arm around his bony shoulders either way before pulling back. “Want a drink? I’m sitting in front of the liquor cabinet. King of the good stuff, thats me,” Craig huffs a laugh and shakes his head.

“Can’t, promised Token I wouldn’t drink if I spent the night smoking,” Kyle frowns and shrugs.

“Sucks to suck,” He says simply, filling up two nice tumblrs with an expensive looking bottle of scotch. He holds one out to Craig and grins. “Its a good thing you don’t suck though. Scotch?”

Craig shakes his head again and Kyle looks genuinely upset now. “Come on, Craig. Have they put you back on your meds yet?”

“Some of them? Mood enhancers and sleeping pills,”

Kyle throws his hands up again, making the scotch slosh a bit in the glasses. “You’re basically drunk already then! Come on, no scotch then. How bout a few shots?”

He carelessly drops the glasses onto the pile of dishes in the sink and twists around and back to open the cabinet behind him. He pulls down a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses along with it, setting them on the table. Twisting further until he was up on his knees, he digs a salt shaker out of another cabinet. He returns to his place, legs crossed in front of two shot glasses, a bottle of tequila, and a salt shaker. He watches Craig for a moment before jerking his chin. “There are limes in the bowl behind you. Be a dear and cut one up,”

And Craig almost says no again, almost says he needs to start listening to Token but Kyle looks ready to cry if Craig says no so instead he turns and grabs a lime and a knife out of a drawer, turning back to Kyle with a look as if he were asking if Kyle was finally satisfied. Kyle grins and lunges forward, hands landing hard on those sharp shoulders and lips smearing lip gloss on Craig’s cheek as he laughs against his skin. Craig finds himself laughing to and pushes Kyle back.

Xxx

“Okay, none of that hand shit anymore. Thats boring. C’mere,” Craig isn’t sure how well ‘c’mere’ is gonna go but the lime is already sliced up and half gone and the shots are poured. Kyle holds his face with one hand and frowns. “Pout for me- there perfect,” Craig furrows his eyebrows before raising them as kyle shakes salt onto his protruding bottom lip. “Perfect!” Before Craig can protest, Kyle is kissing him, teeth on his lip and is pulling away again. Craig watches Kyle knock back his shot and takes a moment to lick the rest of the salt from his lip.

He doesn’t expect kyle to pull him back in and the ugly taste of tequila hits his tongue before a lime is pressed between his lips.

His head spins as he finishes the shot, eyes crinkling as he bites into the lime slice. He watches Kyle do the same, squinching his eyes shut and shaking his head, firy curls bouncing around wildly. He open his eyes slowly and begins to laugh. “That was fun, right? Lets try-” He cuts off, eyes going wide. He hits Craig’s shoulder hard and pushes him towards the door that leads from the kitchen out into the side of the house. “Token’s coming, out! Get out!” He leans back, trying and failing to look normal, and dramatically flips down his shades to cover his eyes with a sly smile.

Craig slips out quickly, discarding the lime slice onto the lawn. He’s a bit dizzy now and nearly trips over someone sitting at the bottom of the steps. He realizes, with a wobbly laugh, that he nearly stepped on Kenny McCormick. Kenny looks up and smiles, though he seems more tired now.

“Hey Craig,” He says quietly and Craig wonders why he’s being quiet before deciding to play along.

“Hi Kenny,” He says, taking a seat next to him. He accepts what left of Kenny’s cigarette with a smile. Kenny licks his teeth and watches him before leaning back on the step behind them. They both end up with their heads tilted up towards the stars and Craig’s eyes find the moon. He feels the need to talk well in his throat and he doesn’t bother to stop it.   
“Did you know there’s a heart on Pluto?” He doesn’t wait for Kenny to answer, and Kenny doesn’t try to, just grins. “Its not really a heart though, its this area of frozen dessert but people lost their shit about it. You think winter’s bad here, the whole planet’s like negative 375 degrees Fahrenheit man. That’s like, freeze your literal dick off weather. Apparently, since it gets closer to the sun during orbit, the ice begins to melt and for a while it has an atmosphere of mostly nitrogen and methan gas. There may even be wind but it takes 248 Earth years to orbit the sun so we don't actually know. And did you know one of Juipiters moons is completely iced over. There are some really bomb ass pictures of it all lit up because there are volcanoes coming up for under the ice and the light is amazing. I'm pretty sure they were taken by a fly by but I can't remember which one,”

He pauses, taking a moment to breathe and gather himself. Before he can begin talking again, Kennys lips are against his. Cold hands are pressed to either side of his face as Kenny presses feverish kisses to Craig's lips. That doesn't do much to stop Craig though, he still wants to talk and if he has to while Kenny gets off then so be it.

“And,” Another kiss, Kenny hums to show he's listening and starts moving to Craig's jaw. “You know that picture, the one they say was taken on the moon where the earth looks half shadowed. That- ah” his hands find Kenny’s hair and tangles his fingers there. “That was taken on Apollo 8 but people, ow careful! People don't give you the time of fuckin day if you don't touch the moon. Not like we l-launched them out into orbit or anything,”   
Kenny nods against Craig's collar bone, giving him one last bite there. His hips roll up against Craig's as he leans forward to nip at his ear.   
“Fuckin greedy bastards,”   
Craig smiles slightly, glad Kennys actually listening.   
“You're tellin me. Hell, I'm gonna touch the moon one day. Or Mars, maybe I'll even see if there's wind on Pluto. Fuck,” his breath hitches but his can't tell if it's from the hands that found his ass or his own excitement for what he was talking about. “I'm gonna be one of the greats man. They'll talk about me in schools. You'll learn about Buzz Aldrin, Neil Armstrong and Craig Tucker,”   
Kennys nodding again and when he pulls back to knock their foreheads together, he's grinning too.   
“Fuck yeah you will. You'll be great Craig,”  
And then they were kissing again, Kennys knee pushed between his thighs.

It's all hot and heavy and Craig can't really keep up. Hands drift from his ass to his hip, pushing up under his shirt and raking red lines over his ribs. And then everything slows again, Kennys pressing all his weight into Craig as he shudders a breathy moan against Craig's neck.   
“Fuckin satyrosis,”  
“Fuckin satyrosis,” Craig returns, because that would always be the explanation for these sudden humpfests

He pulls back breathless and looking a little guilty. A soft kiss is placed on Craig's cheek and a cigarette is lit and gifted to him before hand smooth through his hair. Craig takes it all with a closed lip smile and watches Kenny leave with an odd sense of content and loneliness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of hesitant to post this because I hate misrepresenting disorders and Kennys satyrosis is no exception but honestly I've had the vision of Craig talking straight through a hot and heavy session in my mind for a few weeks now. My fave and his special interests don't stop for no one, not even Kenny McCormick.


End file.
